The Junkie
by Taiga
Summary: Prince Krichevskoy was a model demon; a true ruthless fiend fit to take the throne! At least he had been, until a fateful encounter one night in town... One-shot.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. All intellectual property related to Disgaea belong to Nippon Ichi. _

_Beta version originally posted on DW. Final version also posted on Tumblr and AO3.  
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_2013/05/29: Fixed some mistakes and formatting._

_This fic was written for __ShadowDancer09__. As a matter of fact, the basis of the King and Queen's characterisation comes directly from her._

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**The Junkie**

...

For the most part, the night had gone right as they had planned it. Completely bored with castle life, Krichevskoy and a few of other noble children had decided to sneak out and hit the town. The plan had been pretty simple: get some food and skip on the bill, re-deface the town square for the fifth night in a row, and go spit on Holy Demons wandering around. It was just another night of harmful teenaged fun for the young Prince.

Near the end of the night however, he found himself in an odd position: he was tired, but what kind of demon would he be if he returned home at a decent hour? Some of his escapade companions had already decided to head back, but what kind of future Overlord would he be if he wasn't the last one to head back? In a desperate attempt to make the night longer, he began to aimlessly wander around, taking the extra long way home and ditching the remaining demons along the way. He strayed along the dark alleys for a good ten minutes when he figured he could finally go and get some well deserved sleep. At least he was alone now, no one would notice if he wasn't the last one to head back.

"Hey kid..." A voice rang out from the shadows. It would appear that the young Prince wasn't as alone as he first thought. He stared as an older man slightly came into view, hiding himself with the darkness and a long trench coat.

"Leave me; I have no business with the likes of you!" The Prince spat out, knowing full well just what type of shady character he was currently dealing with.

"Come on kid, I know you're curious. At least check it out, you never know... you might like it!"

"I said no!" Krichevskoy moved back, away from the strange man. He had heard rumours about these things, but he never thought he would ever end up face to face with these dealers. How dare these deviants try to poison the mind of the youth? Oh he would use all of his powers to make that man regret trying to corrupt this kingdom's only heir!

"Come on, just try one. Just one, I know you're curious," he repeated, sticking to his well rehearsed introduction speech. "If you don't like it, no big deal, just throw it out. But hey... don't knock it until you've tried it."

Before he knew what was going on, a paper bag was dropped in his hands before the older demon teleported away. His first instinct was to throw the thing away and simply forget about the whole night and the troublesome delinquent. However, as much as he wanted to deny it, the man had seen through his own curiosity. Biting his lip, Krichevskoy started making his way back home, the bag hidden away. At the very least, this was the proof he needed to arrest that man and make him rot in jail until Celestia burned over.

...

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...

"You have to do something! Please! Our son, we've tried everything and he's..."

The Queen was dramatically wiping away her tears with her lace handkerchief as the King simply rolled his eyes. Of course this was a problem, but they didn't need to publicise it. A little discipline and a good spanking would fix his son; they didn't need professional help. Still, his wife had simply_ insisted_ on blowing this out of proportion _yet_ _again_; leaving him no place to argue less he found himself sleeping on a stone couch for the next century.

"The other day... the Prinnies found this under Krichevskoy's bed..." The Queen blurted out in between two sobs, tossing him a bag.

The man took the bag and emptied out its contents, frowning. By the Hells... whoever the Prince had been talking too... it was no mere pusher. "Damn... where did he get this?"

"Is it bad?"

"Bad? This... this book is the first of the "Inlander" series by Giane Badaldon. A _series_! That bastard knows what he's doing; even a non addict would be hard pressed not to go ask for the sequel! These things are designed to keep you coming back for more!"

The King's face devolved into an even bigger frown. That bastard... he probably lured him with a simple, cheap paperback and now... dammit, he should have noticed earlier that his son had started acting differently. And he was supposed to be the good one too... How could the next Overlord enjoy_ romance novels_!? This wouldn't stand!

"Can my son be saved from this terrible affliction?" The Queen whimpered out, tossing her head back as the back of her palm found its way to her forehead. Both men simply stared at each other as she feinted fainting. "... she does that. Just ignore it, it's better for everyone," the King muttered under his breath. Right... he was starting to wonder if a love struck teenager wasn't going to be his only charge today.

"We're going to have to move fast if you don't want this to get worse. Don't worry, your Highness, junkies can be fixed. You've done well up to this point but we're going to have to step it-"

"Dood, we found Prince Krichevskoy! He's in a secret room near the bathrooms, dood!"

Usually, a Prinny barging in a private meeting would have resulted in a good old fashioned tossing, but today, the King, the Queen, and the counsellor rushed out the door and ran to the bathroom. Now that the Prinnies had discovered the switches, the secret door easily opened, and inside stood a mortified Krichevskoy, sitting cross legged on the floor, sheets of paper on his lap and a quill in his hands.

"F-father? Mother... what a surprise..."

"Cut the crap, Krichevskoy! We know what you've been up to... to think that _you_ would sink so low!"

Ignoring the Queen's sobs, the counsellor grabbed the writings away from the protesting Krichevskoy, who suddenly found much interest in counting the tiles on the floor. "Damn..." was all he could muster to say. This was bad, very bad... He had been writing his own stories; some original, some apparently using his novel's characters as bases. It wasn't just limited to his current pile though; the entire room was filled with half finished stories and ideas, shoved in folders or even in between the pages of his books.

"Son," the King said, his voice dripping with disappointment. "Tell the truth, what were you writing?"

The young prince let out a half hearted string of muffled "nothing" and "you wouldn't understand". Why were teenagers always so... so... difficult? The King grabbed his son by the arm and lifted him up. "Answer me! _What were you writing_?"

A long silence followed before finally, Krichevskoy spoke up in a half voice. "I, I was writing something... fairly tame... just an old fashioned romance piece, that's all."

"By the Hells! My son..." cried out the Queen, unable to stop herself from running out the door in tears. "MY SON IS A SHIPPER!"


End file.
